Welp, I did it. I pulled the trigger and started ordering bathroom stuff. I guess once you put something out there on the internet for millions of people to see (or more like 12 people, if you’re me), the pressure to stop talking and start doing increases exponentially (or maybe just slightly, whatever, I’m not good with pressure).

Which is one way of saying, I’m still not actually “doing” anything, unless shopping counts. I clicked “buy” a couple of times on the computer. And made one unsuccessful shopping trip to IKEA, where I learned: never take a toddler to IKEA to buy a bathroom vanity. I came home with $5 worth of brightly colored plastic cups and plates and no bathroom vanity. I was going to order it online but they wanted $75 for shipping and I was like, are you kidding? I am on a $1500 budget for a gut-job bathroom remodel and I live 15 minutes away and you want MONEY to deliver it right to my door?

In an ideal world, installing a chandelier would go something like this: 1) remove the old chandelier, 2) install the new chandelier, 3) sit back and enjoy a beverage beneath the illumination of said chandelier. But as you all know by now, I don’t live in an ideal world. My first-world problems include (but are not limited to):

The fact that I don’t have a new chandelier.

The fact that I don’t have an old chandelier, or any evidence that there was ever a place to hang one.

But these are minor details when you consider the fact that the ceiling I wish to adorn is covered in The Texture That Must Not Be Named.

And it would be a real travesty to put all my creative effort into designing and constructing an incredible one-of-a-kind light fixture, only to have the “after” photos marred by that rutted, uneven, unrefined background. The mission (which of course I accepted) was to install an electrical box for an incredible one-of-a-kind light fixture in a popcorn-free ceiling.

Imagine this, if you will: Chris is outside, mowing the lawn, wearing earbuds, minding his own business, just doin’ chores and listenin’ to tunes. Suddenly, I come running out of the house and scare the crap out of him because he’s totally not expecting to see me outside of the house in my pajamas at 2 in the afternoon.

“Hey, Craigslist Master! I need you to find something for me.”

Chris: (removes his earbuds and shuts down the lawn mower in a patient and not-at-all annoyed manner, as if to say, “Go on.”)

Me: “I need you to find me a bunch of cheap microphones.”

Chris: “Okay………..I’m kind of busy…”

Me: “I don’t need them right now. I’m just telling you now, before I forget. There’s plenty of time. I just know it takes time to find good deals on stuff. So, you know…keep your eyes open.”

Chris: “Okay…………Like, how many is ‘a bunch’ Like, 5 or 6?”

Me: “I don’t know, as many as you can find? Like, 20? Maybe more?”

Chris: (gives me a look that I will interpret here as, “20 microphones? You think it’s that easy to find 20 microphones just lying around?”)

Me: “If it makes it easier, they don’t have to all look the same. Because I’m going to spray paint them all. Gold. Also, they don’t actually have to be working microphones. They just have to look like microphones. Like microphone skeletons, that’s all I really need.”

Chris: (I have to give him credit, he held off asking this for waaaay longer than I thought he would) “WHY?”

You know what would be great? Having electricity in the kitchen. But we can’t fully finish the electrical until we replace our windows and decide on lighting for the tiny new bathroom. So we were at Lowe’s the other day, pricing out windows, and we decided to take a little detour through the lighting aisle. My eye was immediately drawn to this chandelier: